With the exception of Christmas, beach week is my merriest week of the year. I am never as fun or relaxed as I am at the ocean. But I am also hyper aware of my diagnosis.
I am pigmentally challenged.
We all have that friend that just cannot seem to capture any rays of vitamin D. The friend that burns like a piece of bacon in a cast iron skillet after an hour on the sand. The friend that actually falls for the gimmicks and purchases 100 spf. The friend that goes from lobster red to incandescently white within a few days.
I am that friend.
With that enticing image in mind… I was sitting at the pool with my water babies today, watching them try to drown each other for the latest water toy of choice. With them content and in no need of their all-time favorite water toy (me), I stood on the deck to take in the ocean view and breathe in the salty air.
I was counting my blessings and thinking about the people I love the most, when I was distracted by the white light coming towards me on the beach – the palest person I’ve ever seen. I mean, porcelain white. No pink in her cheeks, no varicose veins in her legs, no color. I must have been a beacon for her as well because we just kind of marvelled at each other.
She waved to me, I waved to her and we were immediately connected in this comradery of understanding. We are the sunblock company’s dream and the dermatologist’s nightmare. Yet we brave the bikinis and stares, and function like normal people.
Kermit had it wrong. It’s easy to be green, it’s being pasty that’s the problem.